Recreation
by CircadianDance
Summary: Sam standing in front of him with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face is probably one of the cutest things Dean has ever seen in his life, not that he'd tell Sam that. Wincest. Weecest.


**Title:** _Recreation_

**Word Count:** _1,261_

**Pairing:** _Wincest/Weecest_

**A/N:** Based on this prompt, 'Dean and Sam do 'spider on a swing,' and Sam gets hard by accident and is all shy and flustered and Dean notices but keeps pushing until Sam comes.'

**Summary:** _Sam standing in front of him with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face is probably one of the cutest things Dean has ever seen in his life, not that he'd tell Sam that._

**Warnings:** Slash, gay brothers.

* * *

There's only one swing.

There _were _two, but the one on the right is twisted and broken, some unruly teen long ago snapped its chains and swung it round the top. It's useless, now, the seat hanging by one chain instead of two and dangling only a foot from the top of the metal pole that runs across the swing set. Dean Winchester is leaning against the frame work, wound tight as a jungle cat but not nearly as eloquent, hands in his jacket pockets as he smirks coyly in the direction of a young blonde. She's eating up his pick-up lines, putting on a real show of how flattered she is, Sam notices every time she picks at the hem of her shirt, dragging it down lower to expose more cleavage.

Sam toes at the mulch, boot scattering flaking pieces of wood out of the box the playground's build on and onto the surrounding concrete. Dean's chatting up some chick per usual, big deal. Sam's not jealous. He's not. He's just pissed off, that's all. Not because Dean's been ignoring him for the last half an hour every time Sam's whined about being cold, not because Sam's hungry (even though he is), not even because Sam's got the feeling he's going to be the one on the floor of the hotel tonight…

He's just pissed because . .. fuck it, he is jealous. In a completely normal, brotherly way. He's jealous because Dean should be tending to him, not lolly-gagging with this stupid bimbo who's literally so ignorant it's lowering Sam's IQ just hearing her speak to someone else.

"Sugar," Dean's using that voice he picked up from god knows where, "I'm thinking you should probably come back with me to my hotel."

"_Your _hotel?" The girls eyebrows raise and she gives Dean another glance over. "Didn't think you were old enough to rent your own room."

"Please, I'm nineteen," Dean scoffs.

Sam groans. Loudly. They both glance in his direction, Dean rolling his eyes and shaking his head at Sam and the girl sighing and stepping back. "Actually, how about lunch tomorrow, sound good?" He finishes hopefully, giving her an apologetic grin.

She accepts and gives Sam a little wave, one he supposes she thinks is cute, before _finally _leaving. Dean moves over to the swing and sits, rubs his hands on the sides of his face and lets his eyes wander up. "What the hell was that for, Sammy?"

Sam's silent, just bites his lip and continues to kick at the ground.

"Seriously. Sam, she's gone, you could maybe stop being an asshole now. I get it, there you go. You wanna go home or what?"

Sam finally breaks and twists around to look at Dean, practically shaking with anger. "Yeah, I'm the asshole, Dean. I was the one who didn't want to leave the house. _I'm_ the one with exams tomorrow. _I'm _the one who wanted to stay home and study._ You're _the one who convinced me to take a walk with you and then _you're _the one who goes cruising and expects me to just sit here waste my entire night as you lie to anything with tits."

Dean looks taken back. "Jesus, Sammy, come on. I talked to her for like, maybe ten minutes. Fifteen tops. I don't know what your big deal is."

"The big deal, Dean," Sam's striding towards him, annoyance showing even in his walk, "is that I'm tired Dean, you drug me out here, and this was a complete waste of my time."

Sam standing in front of him with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face is probably one of the cutest things Dean has ever seen in his life, not that he'd tell Sam that. Instead, he settles for reaching out and tugging Sam forward, pulling him into an awkward hug, Sam hunched over with his chin on Dean's shoulder and Dean snaking his hands around Sam's hips.

They stay like that for a few minutes, both of them too scared to move. Sam's positive his heart is beating like a jack hammer.

"Still cold, Sammy?" Dean asks, mouth near Sam's ear. The rush of warm air trails along his neck and shudders.

He nods. "Freezing."

Dean chuckles and hoists one of Sam's legs up, Sam flails and grabs a hold of the chains of the swing for balance. "What are you doing?" He stares at Dean as he pulls Sam closer and pushes Sam's leg in between his side and the chain. Sam's practically straddling him, is, really, once Dean forces Sam to put all his weight on Dean's lap by grabbing his left leg and lifting that one, too, pressing it tight against his side.

"Figured this might warm you up," Dean shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant. Sam can tell he's holding back a smile.

And just like that, Sam's bad mood is gone. He sighs and wraps his arms around Dean's torso now, leans in close. The heat is coming off Dean in waves and Sam wiggles in closer, trying to close as much distance as possible. He's a little scared at first when Dean kicks off. It's weird, not looking forward with the motion, but Sam just closes his eyes and lets the motion lull him into comfort. He feels safer than he has in a long time. It's relaxing, the swinging, Dean's warmth, Dean's thighs firm beneath him, Dean's _smell_. Sam wonders if he could be any gayer, since he's got his face tucked into the crook between his brothers shoulder and neck and all he's worried about is how Dean smells, but then he notices the heat pulling between his legs, and yes, the answer to that question is yes, he could be much gayer. He obviously knows no bounds.

Sam squirms. Dean doesn't notice at first, still concentrating on keeping his rhythm, working his legs back and forth. Sam's practically panting and there's absolutely no way Dean could miss it now, his cock is bulging against the zipper of his jeans and finally Sam can't help it, he whines, then pushes his lips against Dean's neck to silence himself.

Dean keeps one hand on the swing and lets the other fall to Sam's back, pressing hard, digging Sam's crotch against Dean's stomach. He doesn't say anything, just keeps looking ahead and keeps his hand there as he continues to move.

Sam's done trying to be slick, he keeps his legs tight around Dean's waist and lets himself rub against Dean's stomach, the friction burning as moves.

It doesn't take long, two minutes, and Sam's coming in his pants, shaking as his orgasm rocks through him. Sam feels boneless and more tired than he'd ever been in his life, just stays wrapped around Dean until he actually starts to fall asleep.

It's after the first snore than Dean shakes him awake and makes him peel himself off of him. They stand as they walk back to the motel, Sam just thinks he's really glad they have this.

John's still not back so Sam lucks out. They share the bed.


End file.
